


No Rest for the Wicked

by Lizardbeth



Series: Nellis 'Verse [7]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Earth, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Nellis-verse, Phone Sex, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 14:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/pseuds/Lizardbeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kara's at work, Sam's home sick.  That doesn't mean they can't have fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Rest for the Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my [Nellis-'verse AU series of pornlets](http://lizardbeth-j.livejournal.com/154549.html#cutid3), though this one is a pretty general Modern Earth AU. Written for [ Porn Battle XI](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/472424.html#cutid1) for the prompt "gamble" which um, made me think of Vegas which made me think of Nellis-verse. Which turned into phone sex and LDYB2. Somehow.

Kara's phone beeped, announced a text, and she knew who it had to be before she touched the activate.

Sam wrote: **Hi. Busy?**

Kara texted back: **U should rest.**

His answer popped up. **Bored. Feel ok.**

She rolled her eyes. It was too long to text back how much a pile of crap that was. He'd had the flu last week, seemed okay for two days, except for a persistent cough. He'd gone back to work, saying he was 'fine', but not cleared to fly until his cough went away. But instead his cough got worse. When she'd discovered he was still running a fever, she'd dragged him to the doctor herself. The doctor had found pneumonia and very nearly admitted him to the hospital, but Sam had batted his blue eyes at her and pleaded to stay home. Doctor Foster had relented, giving him medicines, orders to not exert himself, and to come back in three days. The medicines -- and stubbornness -- were giving him an inflated idea of how well he was after two days.

 **Where r u?** she sent.

 **Couch. nascar on tv.**

 **Good. Rest.**

He ignored that, texting back: **Kissing you. lips. under your ear.**

Her eyebrows lifted, a little surprised, and she chuckled. He **was** bored, that was clear. They'd never done it via text message before, but his coughing all over everything wasn't exactly a turn on, so maybe this was better. But sexting was probably okay activity for him. It was less allowed for her, since she was at work, but she went to close her office door and sat back down in her desk chair, legs spread.

She'd rather do this on the phone, but this way he wouldn't have to talk. So she sent back: **Both hands on you. Ur not wearing a shirt.**

Half closing her eyes, she could imagine it perfectly: She had her hands all over his torso, caressing those shoulders she couldn't get enough of, down his chest, to his stomach ...

His reply came back: **Taking your bra off. Fingers and lips on your nipples.**

She smiled and sent back: **Both with 1 mouth? talented.**

 **:P I am. Tongue too.**

 **Undoing your zipper VERY slowly.** She sent back and while she waited for his reply, her free hand palmed her breast over her bra, kneading it, and imagining the touch of Sam's lips pulling at her nipple, licking it to a stiff point.

His reply appeared. **My hand on your thigh, under your skirt.**

She wasn't actually wearing a skirt, but that was all right: she opened her pants and reached inside to touch her inner thigh, caressing upward, knowing exactly what he would do.

With one thumb, she started to type: **fingers tracing your dick, feeling it stir.** She hesitated on 'dick' and decided to go with it. It felt dirtier to type it than say it aloud somehow, but she pushed send.

And she knew that back home on the couch, he had his free hand on top of his shorts, his fingers rubbing at his dick beneath.

It took a longer moment for the reply to come, so she did the same thing, feathering light strokes across her panties until she started to twitch and she really wanted to put her hand in there.

 **I slip a finger under your panties and dip inside.**

The phone very nearly fell from her hand as she jerked at the phantom touch between her legs.

Then her own finger followed, slick skin parting as she teased herself and then rubbed her clit.

 **Pull them down your long smooth legs. naked and beautiful.**

She shook her head. He was such a romantic. But she couldn't deny the warmth in her chest or the smile that her mouth made without her intent. She'd never get over how he called her beautiful, and he meant it. She figured that deserved something nice and typed back, **I slide my hand under your shorts and you're hot and thick in my grip.**

 **I kiss your inner thigh and open your legs wide.**

Kissing her there only meant one thing. She shuddered once and sent: **more?**

 **I lick you. Love how you taste. Hands on your thighs and breath and mouth hot on you. Tongue inside you.**

Her fingers followed, pushing inside herself and she bit her lip, as she felt a heavy heat grow in her lower belly and tingle in her clit.

 **Suck on your clit til you make that sound.**

And she knew what it was, too - a soft keen between her teeth as she threw her head back and tried to close her legs, unable to bear it. But his hands held her legs still, his stubble scratched her open folds and his lips and tongue tormented her clit until it broke over her in a shuddery wave.

"God!" she whispered, as orgasm jolted through her. Breath uneven she pulled her fingers away, and licked her lips and then her fingers, tasting the sharp tang of her arousal.

The phone beeped. **You going on w-o me?**

Which sounded kind of plaintive, so she answered: **I've got my thumb on the head, rubbing. N my pinkys doing that thing you like on your balls**.

His answer was concise. **ofuck**.

She laughed and kept typing with her thumb. **And Im squeezing and pumping. And I bend down and lick it all over.** She sent and kept going, feeling mischievous and sexy, knowing she was bringing him off. **I take your dick in my lips and suck it in, tight. Hot. Work it til your hard**.

 **I mount you, take your cock deep and ride you. You beg me not to stop.**

Kara couldn't stop either, sliding her fingers back between her legs to stroke herself some more until she was quivering and could barely type.

 **I squeeze as I move, milking it, and you come.**

She came, too, clenching deep inside and letting out a sharp gasp. It was never quite as good to do it herself, but it was good enough. She could imagine his expression right now, that glazed look in his eyes that lasted for a moment until he reached for her to kiss her hard.

It took a few extra moments for his reply to arrive. **Lov e u.**

She smiled, knowing what that meant. It had been just as good for him. **u too**. Glancing at the wall clock she saw that it was eleven. General Adama wouldn't object if she went home to visit her sick husband. **Lunch? I'll come home.**

 **Hell yes.**

She laughed at his eagerness. **See u soon, bb. Work. You rest**.

An hour later, Kara went home, calling out from the front hall, "Sam?" There was no reply. She went into the living room expecting to see him on the couch, ready to do the live-action version of their phone sex.

He was on the couch, wearing only his boxers, as she'd hoped, but he was sound asleep. His breaths through his open mouth wheezed unnervingly and his face was still flushed with fever. She watched for a moment, a little disappointed that lunch sex wasn't happening, but more worried and irritated that he'd been lying about how well he felt. She switched off the t.v., picked up the crumpled tissues strewn on the floor, and knelt beside the couch. She smoothed back his sweat-damp hair and kissed his forehead.

He stirred, blue eyes opening blearily. "Kara?"

"Hey, baby. I'm home. Let's get you into bed, and I'll give you your pills."

He stuck out a pouty lip. "I'm not getting laid?"

She had to shake her head at that ambitious optimism. "Sam, I'm tempted to call Doctor Foster to have her admit you to the hospital, not jump your bones. You look like crap."

"Damn." But when that was all the protest he made, she knew it was the right thing to do. She helped him to his feet and had to grab his shoulder to help him stay steady, when the movement set off a coughing fit. After it passed, he held his chest a moment, wincing at the pain, and went to the bed without complaint. She brought him his pills and water.

"No more sex until you're better." She frowned as she watched him take his medicine and lay back against the pillows.

"I felt better earlier. Really I did," he promised and added with a hopeful smile, "And the sexting thing was fun. Wasn't it?"

She couldn't be angry at him when he looked so pathetic. Sighing, she pulled the sheet up to his chest and patted him. "It was," she agreed. "We'll do it again. But for now, rest."

His eyes drifted closed and she sat by the bed until he was asleep again.

end.


End file.
